When Love Runs Dry
Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs.
He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man.
This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress.
"She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her."
He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed."
Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I
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